Zane takes cold showers, so he didn't understand why the mirror had so many fingerprints on it, believing there is little reason to touch it other than to clean it. It is not like a window, where hand and nose prints from looking out are as common as they are expected.
So when he voices his complaints over breakfast, he's surprised at the reason given for the dirty mirror, amidst the many denials of who is responsible for so many fingerprints.
"I don't touch that mirror," says Cole, shaking pepper onto his eggs, "Trust me."
"The fingerprints must have come from someone," says Zane, "If not a few of us."
"Not true," says Kai, "The last time I touched that mirror was when I was wiping away all the blood from a nosebleed."
"How does that end up on the mirror if you're leaning over the sink?" asks Lloyd.
"It hardly matters," says Zane, "and you're incorrect. I was the one who finished scrubbing up all the blood you missed."
"There's no need to argue," Nya cuts in, "You're looking for Jay."
The rest of the team murmurs various noises of affirmation while Jay, who so far sat silently munching on his hashbrowns, looks up in indignation.
"What—" he says.
"Oh yeah," says Cole, chuckling.
"Why Jay?" asks Zane.
"You really don't know?" asks Nya, incredulous.
"They're not all mine," says Jay, "I'm not the only one who touches the mirror."
"No one touches it more than you do."
"Yeah, but—"
"Excuse me," says Zane, "Why Jay?"
Lloyd says, "The mirror is where Jay writes his secret messages."
Zane blinks, then looks at Jay, who shoots him finger guns.
"Secret messages?" Zane repeats.
"After I shower, I leave notes in the steam on the mirror," says Jay, with a shrug.
"You've never seen them?" asks Nya.
"No," says Zane, "I don't take showers hot enough to cause steaming."
"Maniac," mutters Kai.
"Regardless, those fingerprints can't be all mine," says Jay.
"Are so!" says Lloyd.
They dissolve into arguing as Zane regrets bringing it up, and that is all that is said on the subject. It was a little thing, after all, and Zane doesn't think about the alleged 'secret messages' until several days later.
He showers in the Bounty's only bathroom after a long afternoon of training and hears a frantic knock on the door halfway through.
Curious, he turns the water down and peeks his head around the curtain at the same time that Jay pokes his head through the bathroom door, looking ill.
"Hey there," says Jay, talking high and fast like he does when he's nervous, "Will you be out soon?"
"I'll be out once I finish my hair routine," says Zane, concerned with the interruption.
"When will that be?" asks Jay.
He's shifting, unable to sit still.
"After I finish my full body wash," says Zane, "I'm only halfway through right now."
Jay looks…displeased. Worse. Ill.
"You can use the bathroom if you need to," says Zane, connecting the dots.
"I would," says Jay, "but it's not what you think. I ate this hot dog from a gas station earlier, and it's not sitting well."
"Oh," says Zane.
Oh dear.
"How are you holding up?" asks Zane.
"If I don't go soon," Jay swallows, grimacing, "—I don't know how much longer I can wait. I don't want to inconvenience you, either."
"Just go ahead and go," says Zane, "It's alright."
"Are you sure?"
"We've all been there," says Zane.
It's happened before, where more than one person needs the bathroom. It is a consequence of living in close quarters.
Jay hovers by the door, debating it for seconds more before rushing in.
"I owe you one," he says, before saying, "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Zane replies.
These kinds of things don't happen to Zane, with his perfect system, but he understands how dire these situations can be. He turns the water up and resumes his shower, hoping for the best.
Better this than not making it, Zane supposes.
Minutes pass, before Zane wonders if he should make conversation or leave Jay be.
He tries once, "How is it going?"
And is met with, "Zane, please. I'm dying. I have little dignity left."
"Are you dying?"
"No, but yes."
"Okay," says Zane.
He lets Jay be.
As he finishes his shower, he is reminded of the conversation the team had at breakfast a few days ago, for no other reason than that it related to the bathroom. Curious about Jay's habit of leaving mirror messages, he turns the water on hot, then turns the cold down to ensure that the mirror is properly steamed. The temperature gets uncomfortable faster than Zane anticipated, and much of the rest of his shower is spent dancing out of the water's path.
At some point, Jay flushes—and the water gets hotter, to Zane's chagrin—and he spends a few moments shuffling around the bathroom. Zane wonders what he's doing and hears a cabinet door open and shut before Jay sprays something in the air.
Zane inhales and gets a whiff of the lavender air freshener they keep tucked away. He thanks Jay silently.
Jay leaves the bathroom after muttering, "Thanks," and Zane waits another minute before turning the water off and mercifully leaving the shower.
Quickly, he checks the mirror and is pleased at the layer of steam upon it, then he delights at the sight of a fresh message, written moments before.
Sorry, it reads in big letters, followed by a crudely drawn sad face, but thanks. Don't eat gas station hot dogs.
Zane finds himself smiling, though less at the situation itself and more for the fact that Jay really has been leaving messages on the mirror. Behind the words on the mirror is evidence of past messages, steamed over but not quite lost.
This has been happening for a long time. Jay likely hadn't even thought about it as he left the message, and Zane almost didn't see it. He wonders what he's missed.
He wipes clean Jay's message with the intent of leaving a response before realizing he'll need a fresh layer of steam if he expects to do any writing. With a sigh at the thought of the water wastage, Zane restarts the shower with only hot water and waits for the mirror to steam up again before shutting it off.
He raises his finger to the glass and realizes that he doesn't know what to write. What can he say after what Jay's been through today?
You're welcome, doesn't suffice, really.
A beat passes where Zane realizes that his layer of steam won't last forever, so he settles with his earlier response of, It's okay, and after a moment's thought, a small smiley face. Zane doesn't think much of it, but Jay might like it.
The message will fade in a matter of minutes, but it will reappear the next time someone showers. Hopefully Jay will see it before someone writes over it.
Satisfied, Zane leaves the bathroom.
The team buzzes when Zane meets them the following day for breakfast, giving Zane various looks and grins as he approaches the table. While not opposed to being received well upon entering a room, Zane is suspicious of the number of excited smiles directed at him.
"What?" he asks.
Is there food on his face? Toilet paper stuck to his shoe? Writing on his forehead?
"You got my message!" says Jay, practically bouncing in his seat.
Oh.
"Oh," says Zane.
"You let the mirror get steamed," says Kai, a knowing look in his eye.
"And you got my message!" Jay says again, "Now I can leave you more!"
Zane opens his mouth to refuse, because Jay doesn't need to do that, really, but something in the excitement in Jay's face—in everyone's for that matter—makes him pause.
He doesn't need to keep his shower hot for the entire time, technically.
"Okay," he says.
Jay just smiles at him.
The notes are simple, but Zane hadn't expected anything different. The glass only allows so much space for messages, so they are never long.
Hi Zane! appears first, framed in smiley faces.
Zane replies with, Hello!
Kai's hair clogged the drain again, shows up one day.
Guess what song was stuck in my head when I showered? on another day.
Zane responds to this note, and the string of conversation lasts a while. For every song that Zane guesses, Jay writes back whether he got it right. It took Zane five guesses through a process of elimination, but it took several days of writing back and forth on the mirror. For some reason, they don't talk about the messages outside of the mirror.
Thinking this is because of some mirror edict, Zane heeds the unspoken rule.
Watch out for the spider! greets Zane one day, and while he tells himself that he isn't wary, he spends his shower looking over his shoulder more than usual, trying to find it.
One day, Zane steams the mirror and sees, Lookin' sharp! written for him, positioned so that the words frame his face. This is Zane's first clue that the messages might not all be from Jay. The handwriting is too neat, and the position is more creative than Jay's casual writing.
Zane leaves his reply and keeps watch of the rest of his team to see who got the message, but it could have been any of them.
Now when a new note appears, Zane tries to guess which of his friends left it.
Remember to zip up your pants! Kai, probably.
Dinner was great last night! Cole, maybe. He was the one who enjoyed the stew Zane meticulously prepared more than any of them, but Cole has always been passionate about food.
You look great today! Nya, typically.
Nice hair! Lloyd, from the handwriting.
Nice butt! Kai.
Everyone stop stealing my thing! Jay writes.
No, is written four more times in each of their friends' handwriting. Zane smiles when he sees the replies.
A week later, Are you still getting my messages, Zane?
Zane replies, Yes.
He looks every day, though he doesn't write that.
The next morning, the only thing on the mirror is a smiley face.
The mirror becomes a common way for the team to communicate with each other, and over time, the messages become more generalized, speaking to everyone as well as a specific person sometimes.
Zane checks it diligently, like it's his own morning newspaper.
Whoever reads this is obligated to have a good day!
Don't tell me what to do.
Thank you to whoever left TWO SQUARES of toilet paper on the roll.
Frowny faces follow this note. A lot of frowny faces.
Think positive!
I'm positively livid!
They weren't kidding about asparagus.
Who wasn't?
Ew.
Gross.
You're a star! You guide others with your light!
Ew.
Gross.
Anyone know a cure for hemorrhoids?
'Hemorrhoid' is crossed out and rewritten three times before the spelling is right. Zane keeps his answer simple to match the syntax of the rest of the notes.
Fiber.
And the messages continue, though Zane only reads them.
Let's move the medicine cabinet somewhere else.
You do that.
Hello, handsome!
Hello, gorgeous!
Some days, there aren't messages on the mirror, but faces, or shapes that one or a few of the ninja drew that day. Zane doesn't reply to these either, unsure of what to say.
At some point, he wonders what purpose these messages serve. They are nothing that can't be said over breakfast or dinner, yet the ninja have taken to almost preferring the mirror to talk to each other about mundane things. Maybe it's the element of surprise and relative secrecy of waiting for the mirror to steam up again and reveal the message left by whoever was in the bathroom last.
Maybe it's fun for his team to write with their fingers. Zane wouldn't put it past some of them—Jay or Lloyd, namely—to enjoy finger painting.
Maybe (Zane decides this later) it doesn't matter why his friends do it. What matters is that they think to leave each other a message for no other reason than to delight that someone received it.
After months of checking the mirror, Zane wants to leave a message for everyone else. So far, he's only replied to his friends' messages, if that, and he can't figure out what to say on his own.
He doesn't normally find himself at a loss for words, but the mirror messages are a different medium from speaking or even leaving a few words across a notepad.
He sits on it for a while, wanting the message to be special, like all the message he's received so far.
Hello, how are you? seems too generic, too polite, frankly. Words of affirmation are common on their mirror, regardless of the ridicule they sometimes receive, but it doesn't feel genuine coming from Zane in this way. He wants to leave something important and meaningful for his friends.
One morning finds him rubbing at his eyes as he steams the mirror. It was a long night before, and despite his inhuman abilities, he still gets tired when his rhythm is out of sorts. When he pulls his hands away, he is surprised to see the glass wiped clean. That hasn't happened in ages, for even Zane stopped cleaning it after a while, the exception being whenever he needs to leave a reply.
He scans the glass, wondering what happened, when he sees that it isn't entirely clean after all. In a corner, not immediately noticeable, is a small heart.
A simple thing, anyone could have left it.
Without thinking, Zane reaches forward and adds another heart next to it, careful so that each half matches.
When Zane steams the mirror the next day, six hearts crowd the corner of the mirror, each drawn from a different hand. Zane smiles at them, all at once overwhelmed with love for his friends.
He decides then that he's been overthinking what note to leave on the mirror. It doesn't need to be anything special, just genuine. That is all the messages on the mirror have ever been.
He doesn't erase the hearts as he raises his hand to the glass, intent on writing his message around them. He writes the thing that's been on his mind since the beginning of this whole thing.
I find new things to love about all of you every day.
This started out as a stupid idea and somehow grew to be over 2,000 words. I hope you enjoyed.
Thank you for reading!